


Safeway

by hackerhostel (watchmefuckthisplace)



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:59:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8831422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchmefuckthisplace/pseuds/hackerhostel
Summary: This wasn’t the first time they had gone to grab groceries together, but this time, it was different. Now they were grabbing groceries together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt via tumblr, as suggested by Minty. Just some silly pointless Errich nonsense set in a grocery store. Been sitting on this for a while, but figured why not throw it up. 
> 
> This is set in what I’m envisioning as an alternate S2, where Gavin never went through with the lawsuit, Raviga never dropped them, and Hanneman never happened -- the lack of stress of course led to the obvious conclusion of Erlich and Richard’s relationship evolving. I will probably write more in this AU series eventually tbh.

This wasn’t the first time they had gone to grab groceries together, but this time, it was different. Now they were grabbing groceries _together_ . Shopping with your housemates, especially with your _landlord_ \-- who also happened to be _Erlich Bachman_ \-- was an extremely high level of awkward. But it was an expected, normalized awkwardness that Richard already understood how to navigate. It was always weird before, but it was never _this kind of weird._

Once Richard stepped through the automatic doors of the _Safeway_ , the harsh fluorescent lights and cool stale air washed over him, carrying with them a wave of paranoia. Suddenly Richard was under the very ridiculous assumption that everyone in the store somehow _knew_ \-- knew that they were _together,_ that they were _involved_ , that they were _fucking_ \-- and it mortified him.  

It’s not as if Erlich was invading his personal space, or holding his hand, or making kissy-faces at him, not at all. There was no _tell_. There was, in fact, nothing different, nothing unusual about this -- aside from the screaming in Richard’s head and the tingling in his limbs.

His feet were like heavy slabs and it took concentrated effort to shuffle along the grimy checkered tile. Richard was no stranger to the crippling anxiety that was being in crowded public space, but _that_ he knew how to overcome, mostly anyway, and this … well this he was at a loss for.

Erlich gave Richard a sideways glance, but didn’t press him

Instead, Erlich went and busied himself with wrenching a grocery cart free, cursing under his breath. A small, stern-looking elderly woman cast her disapproval on the scene. This was not helping his desire to feel invisible.

Erlich spewed a few more expletives as he struggled with the damned cart, crashing it against the rest of the row with a horrible roaring clatter. Richard was glued to the floor in horror, scratching at his nose, trying to look anywhere else. His ears were burning.

The old woman huffed, making a show of adjusting her glasses and muttering ceiling-ward. Other shoppers stopped to stare, crowding in on them one by one.

Richard could no longer stand idly by while Erlich was rapidly gaining attention. He darted over to him, almost stumbling over himself, and gently tugged at Erlich’s elbow.

“Here, just, let me help,” Richard said, as softly as he could manage.

Maybe if Erlich wasn’t wrenching at it so _hard_ and crashing the carts together like some kind of supermarket demolition derby, it would _actually_ come free. Or maybe he could just convince Erlich to _leave and never return_ instead. That seemed like the optimal decision.

“No, I got it!” Erlich near shouted and Richard stepped away, but kept his grip on Elrich’s sleeve.

“Come on, seriously, just grab another or whatever, just stop,” Richard pleaded.

But then, as luck would have it, Erlich finally managed to slip the stupid thing out when he loosened his grip.

“Hah! There,” Erlich said, smirking triumphantly at Richard and the very aggravated, very impatient old woman waiting her turn. He pulled another cart away with ease, and rolled it toward the woman with a polite “Ma’am,” but the woman just shook her head and grabbed it without a word, judgement etched into her face.

Richard scrubbed at his hair, trying to ward away the prickling in his nerves and the heat in his face.

“Some people,” Erlich said, shaking his head.

“Can you _not_ cause a scene,” Richard mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact with his big, stupid … whatever Erlich was to him now. He didn’t feel like trying to quantify whatever their relationship status was at the moment, or possibly _ever._

Was it even normal for couples to go grocery shopping together? Richard couldn’t ever recall seeing people shopping _together_ , but then again, he wasn’t ever making it his business to notice. Well, that at least settled that he thought of them as a couple. _Neither the time, nor the place, Richard._

“I am not causing a _scene,_ ” Erlich said, making the discussion final. “The cart was stuck.”

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with.” Richard gave a quiet sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets.

He let Erlich lead the way.

As they rounded toward the dairy aisle, Richard tried to keep focused but it was proving difficult. Something felt not quite right, like reality had shifted off-center, barely perceptible. It took a few seconds for the realization to hit him: Aisle One is where bread should be -- bread and peanut butter and jam and rice cakes and other items filtered out of memory due to lack of importance -- but instead it was dairy.

Then he remembered they were on El Camino. He was used to the shittier Safeway close by the house -- this one was much bigger, the layout different. The aisles were almost a foot wide and the shelves towered much taller. Out in front, by the entrance, the displays were more numerous, better organized, well stocked. Richard hadn’t been in here since his college days, he was sure of it. He’d have to stick close to Erlich, he had no sense of where anything was.

At least it was less dingy in here, and didn’t smell pervasively like dirty water. It _did_ smell a little too much like raw egg, however, once they got half-way down the aisle, and that made his stomach turn. Richard clutched tight at his center, willing his body to settle down and not betray him. He needed to make this quick, get in and get out before the smell got the better of him.

Grabbing what looked like roughly a week’s worth of yogurt -- not caring too much either way as long as it got him through this quicker -- he turned to dump them into Erlich’s cart. But then he paused, and realized that’s all they had, just the one cart.

Richard didn’t grab his own basket or anything and Erlich made no point to provide an alternative for him. Were they shopping for their groceries _together_ then? Should Richard have presumed they’d be _sharing_ a cart?

The yogurt cups were precariously gathered into his arms and if he didn’t do something about them, they’d have spilled all over the floor. So Richard allowed gravity to make the decision, letting them fall into the cart with a clatter.

“Sorry,” he muttered, but when he looked back up, he saw that Erlich was further down the aisle already, preoccupied with reading the labels on various cheeses.

Richard waited a beat, scrunching up his nose, looking around aimlessly. He grabbed a carton of almond milk, considered a pack of low-fat, single-serve cottage cheese cups, put them back, and Erlich was _still_ taking his sweet time. What was so important about the cheese labels that Erlich needed to spend more than a few brief seconds assessing each of them? Had Erlich always shopped like this?

The egg-smell wafted towards him, stronger this time. Not having any desire to wait longer, Richard grabbed the cart with a white knuckled grip and shoved past Erlich, down to the end of the aisle. Erlich finally ripped his attention away from the block of cheddar and offered Richard a look of confusion.

“Come on,” Richard said, eyeing the mess of toppled egg cartons across from Erlich. “Hurry up, okay? I can’t deal with this.”

Erlich heaved a sigh and set down the cheeses from each of his hands, then grabbed the cart away from Richard.

“Is this what it’s going to be like?” Erlich asked, turning the corner that Richard had already disappeared around.

“What?” Richard was already halfway down the next aisle, not looking for anything, not really. He was barely aware of his surroundings. He had just needed to get away from that awful smell. Thankfully, it was already far less noticeable down here.

“Nevermind,” Erlich sighed. “Just don’t rush a man when he’s shopping.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather I puke on your shoes?”

“Don’t do that either.” Erlich squinted at him with disgust.

They made it to Aisle Five without anything horrifying or embarrassing happening. Well, aside from strange looks the other shoppers were treating them to, which Richard tried to chalk up to Erlich’s strange choice of clothing -- although he couldn’t help but worry they were looking at _them,_ and that they _knew,_ and that they were _judging._

Richard kept sneaking cautious glances at Erlich, wondering if he had noticed too, but he seemed oblivious. Maybe a little irritated by the fact that the store was out of his particular brand of crackers, but otherwise alright.

“ _Motherfuck,_ ” Erlich spat, a little too loud, and three people turned to look at them.

Richard tried to shrink away into his hoodie, the good it would do.

“Erlich,” Richard whispered and shuffled in close next to him, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder, but then thought better and withdrew it, shoving it back into his pocket. “People are staring. Just pick another kind.”

“ _Another kind?”_ Erlich sneered. “I’m sorry, maybe if they managed to engineer a cracker that is neither too bland, nor too salty, nor too dry, _nor_ too crumbly, _other than the ones I always buy_ , I wouldn’t have to be in this situation, would I?”

“What?” Richard tilted his head in disbelief before shaking it disapprovingly. “Okay whatever, but I don’t care, just _pick._ Or don’t.”

Erlich stared vacantly at him, a box of low sodium club crackers in one hand, and _Garlic Butter Ritz_ in the other. He weighed the two against each other, looking down at them, like that would have anything to do with aiding in a decision. He did not seem impressed with either.

Richard stepped in front of him with a huff and grabbed a box of _Wheat Thins_ instead, tossing them into the cart.

“There,” Richard said, scowling. “I picked for you.”

Erlich rolled his eyes and set the boxes he was holding back onto the shelf.

“Don’t be difficult, Richard.”

“Me?” Richard stared, open-mouthed, gesturing toward himself. “ _I’m_ being difficult?”

“Yes, you are.” Erlich looked overtop of his head and then glanced around behind himself. “People are staring.”

“I think they’re staring because you’re a weird big fat man in a neon orange shirt and an ugly brown sweater who’s been standing around, in everyone’s way, holding crackers for ten minutes!”  


“Richard, calm down,” Erlich hissed, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re making a scene.”

Richard let out a sharp laugh, rolling his shoulders, trying to shake Erlich off of him. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

They had been in the store for no more than fifteen minutes and already it had been a nightmare.

Richard stepped away, terribly embarrassed, occupying himself with trying to choose a box of granola bars. He couldn’t pay enough attention to make a decision, labels blurring together, the photos on the boxes having no context to offer him. His brain felt like it was going to ignite at any second and he couldn’t comprehend the words scrawled on the boxes, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate. It was as if meaning had suddenly drained away from everything.

So he grabbed a green box, a brand he thought he maybe half-recognized, and tossed it into the cart, just wanting to move on already. It would have to do.

Erlich came over and sighed, exasperated.

“You don’t _like_ those,” Erlich said softly, looking sad almost, and plucked the box out, returning it to the shelf. He grabbed another, similar looking box instead. “You can’t chew those without complaining incessantly and you said they taste like sawdust. _These_ are the ones you eat.”

Richard was simultaneously ashamed and grateful when he realized Erlich was right. He felt like a stupid child. He hated himself, and Erlich and this stupid fucking store. He just wanted to go home already. It was only just rounding toward 11:30 am on a Sunday and all he wanted to do was _go home_ and curl up and take a nap.

Erlich was peering into the cart, sorting through all the items and frowning.

“Richard, this is basically all my stuff,” Erlich said, “Did you seriously not get anything but fucking yogurt and granola bars?”

“And the Wheat Thins,” Richard said, absently.

“Come on,” Erlich groaned. “We’re going back.”

“What?” Panic rose back up in Richard’s chest. “No, we’ve already been here for like almost twenty minutes and I just wanna get this over with.”

“Then let’s make it quick, but you’re getting some food to eat because I’m not taking you back out again.”

“I can go out on my own!”

“Not with my car! Privileges revoked. You’ve lost my keys _twice_ now.”

“Fine, I’ll borrow Jared’s car!”

“Stop being difficult!”

Erlich grabbed Richard’s sleeve and dragged him along toward the opposite end of the aisle, making the firm decision to retrace their steps. He artfully swiped a couple boxes of cereal off the shelf, along with a large box of frosted blueberry pop tarts (which were admittedly appetizing to Richard in the moment), before they sped down the crowded lane and rounded the corner.

Richard supposed he had no other choice but to follow along, or risk getting lost in this strange, labyrinthine supermarket.

They eventually came up on the soups and Erlich deftly stacked out six cans of Campbell’s -- tomato, chicken noodle, cream of mushroom, evenly split -- all _Healthy Request._ Richard was surprised Erlich could remember his soup choices, of all things. Either that, or he got incredibly lucky. Richard wanted to spite him maybe, not sure even _why,_ and grabbed two more cans of tomato. They were on sale.

“I can’t believe you eat those disgusting things, to be honest,” Erlich said, grunting.

Richard grimaced and eyed the stack of instant, microwaveable _Yakisoba_  packages stacked neatly all along the left side of the cart.

“Like you don’t eat gross things,” Richard muttered. “You know those have like, _a ton_ of MSG in them, right?”

“Don’t judge my indulgences.” Erlich was using his _dramatic_ voice, to which Richard rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Come on, let’s get through this, I didn’t think you wanted to be here anymore?”

“I don’t.”

“Then come on!”

They acquired four cans of olives (organic), some chickpeas (on sale), and a huge jar of pickles (just because) along the way on their second pass -- not to mention even more strange looks from exasperated shoppers. Erlich was a pro at managing to take up more than half the lane and Richard wished desperately that he could be at least _marginally_ more socially conscious. Richard had to keep herding Erlich out of the way so other people could pass them. All of the _glaring_ had him sick to his stomach.

Erlich was currently blocking the exit for Aisle Three with the cart as he sorted through variously flavored novelty drinks lined up on the endcap.

“I guess we’re out of a lot of stuff, come to think of it. I probably should have made a list,” Erlich said.

“Hn,” is all Richard offered, picking out some cans of _SpaghettiO’s_ and _Chef Boyardee_.

“What the hell weird shit do you eat, _are you a child_ ?” Erlich looked him up and down with contempt, which frankly was absurd, considering his _own_ choices. “Not that that you shouldn’t be eating better. Maybe _pre-packaged_ and _canned_ isn’t the best bet. Come on, let’s get some fresh, _healthy_ food, so you don’t end up in a sodium-induced coma or waste away from _scurvy._ ”

That turned uncomfortably grim. Richard pulled a frown and considered his eating habits a little more seriously as he followed Erlich. Were they really that bad? He ate vegetables! Almond milk was a healthy alternative, right? He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to eat a _little_ better though. Especially considering how often his stomach seemed to protest about almost everything he put into it lately.

Despite all of that, Erlich threw in three bags of variously flavored organic _all natural_ multigrain chips (Richard pointed out that _organic_ didn’t mean _healthy_ , but went ignored), a five-pack of _Cracker Jacks_ , and a family sized package of peanut M &M’s before they reached produce. If anyone in this relationship ate like a _child_ it was certainly _not_ Richard.

They had completely skipped Aisles Six through Nine and Richard was pretty sure he needed things back there, but couldn’t come up with exactly what. _Frozen things,_ he recalled vaguely as he considered which bananas were least green and least bruised.

Erlich quickly amassed a myriad of fruits and vegetables -- sweet potatoes, carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, apples, _durians_ , red _and_ green peppers, onions, two kinds of squash, green beans, spinach, grapes, mushrooms listed only as _gourmet_ , and some perfectly ripe white peaches which, admittedly, smelled delicious.

It was effectively the _entirety of produce_ , give or take a few items that Richard figured Erlich just hadn’t noticed at the rate he was going.

Richard wondered what he planned on doing with half of it, as Erlich wasn’t exactly one to spend much time cooking. He was pretty sure Erlich rarely came home with much more than pre-cut bags of veggies and maybe a bunch of overripe bananas. Was he trying to _impress_ Richard? Did he plan on taking up cooking as a new hobby? Richard was worried most of it would spoil before they even got to it.

“Maybe this is too much food, Erlich,” Richard suggested. He went ignored.

Erlich better not have expected him to pay for all of this, if he had wanted Richard to eat it.

He wondered who _would_ be paying anyway and how they would be dividing up everything. Erlich had been picking out of his _and_ Richard’s food since they had doubled back. It was all jumbled together now and he really didn’t know what was meant for him or not at this rate.

Richard was still fairly certain there were some important things he missed back toward the other half of the store.

Erlich was busy harassing a bin of avocados for five minutes too long, and Richard, growing too impatient, turned the corner to go and grab some bread.

Richard scanned the long row of shelves, trying to spot the familiar packaging. He paced back and forth at least three times, re-reading labels, making sure the package didn’t get rebranded or wasn’t hiding behind the sloppily ordered hot dog rolls. It was no good. By now it was clear they didn’t have his favorite brand of multigrain oat bread (the only kind he would eat) and he decided he could empathize with Erlich’s earlier cracker dilemma. It made him hate himself a little.

“Hey, Richard!”

A high voice rang through Richard’s foggy thoughts and startled him. He was still unclear about what to do with the bread situation and now his heart was thumping in his chest. Had grocery shopping always been this much of an ordeal?

He looked over to find Monica, an overfull basket weighing heavy in her hand. Her ability to carry the thing was impressive, it made him painfully aware of how weak and small he felt right now. He couldn’t even properly shop for himself like a god damned adult, and here she was, catching him off guard, looking put together and smiling and having more muscle than he could likely ever dream of.

Richard shouldn’t have been so stupidly lost in his head like that. What he should have been doing was saying hello.

“Oh, uh, hey,” he said finally, shuffling and scuffing at the floor with his sneakers. He felt like he had been caught with his pants down for some reason -- not like Monica hadn’t actually, quite literally, caught him with his pants down before. His stomach dropped at the memory and he tried to shove it back into the corners of his mind where it belonged.

“How have you been? I haven’t heard from you in a while. Jared’s been keeping me up to date, though. Everything been okay?” She tilted her head, offering a concerned sort of smile.

“What? Yeah, just busy.” Richard forced out a soft, strained chuckle. _Yeah, busy sucking Erlich’s dick,_ his brain taunted him, unsavory images from the past few weeks bubbling up. He felt his face flush again and wanted to sink into the speckled tile below his feet. Monica didn’t know, she couldn’t know, and she certainly wasn’t trying to accuse him of anything … Right? Had Jared told her about them?

“That’s good, though,” Monica nodded. She looked like she wanted to pry and it made Richard prickle. “Something wrong? Is this too weird? Sorry I’m in my gym clothes at a supermarket, I know I’m probably a mess. Not uh, not very professional of me, huh? I’ll uh, I’ll let you go.”

“Huh? What no, it’s fine, cool, you know,” Richard mumbled. He wasn’t sure if he _believed_ she was actually wearing sweat pants, but hell, she was. He felt like a mess in his regular clothes, rumpled and unwashed, meanwhile, she still looked great. Richard realized he was staring and tried to look away.

“Well, it was good to see you, anyway, I guess, have fun, you know, shopping, or whatever,” Monica said, stumbling over the words and immediately looking like she regretted what had come out of her mouth.

“Uh yeah, yup, will do.” Richard supposed he wasn’t _that_ awkward, in comparison. It made him feel a little better, at least.

Monica nodded and was about to turn and leave … but then a pained look came over her face. She was staring over his shoulder. Richard turned with a heavy sense of dread, knowing who she must have seen.

Sure enough, Erlich had picked the worst moment to come around the divide. Richard felt the panic resurfacing as he ambled over.

“Monica,” Erlich said, a lopsided grin on his face. He looked her up and down and Richard scowled. “Surprised to see you here.”

“Hey, yeah well, it is a grocery store. I do eat,” Monica said, with a forced, visibly irritable smile.

“Don’t we all,” Erlich said, nodding slowly. _What did that even mean?_

Richard buried his face in his hands.

“I ran into Richard and I was just saying hi. Nice to see you both again, but uh, I gotta get going.”

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” Erlich pushed, self-important and completely dismissive.

Why couldn’t Erlich let this horrid situation go?

“Uh yeah. Sure. Look, I’ll catch up with you guys later. Like I said, gotta go. You know. _Shopping_.” She gestured with her basket and a pineapple almost toppled out of it before she caught it. “This thing’s heavy.”

“Did Jared tell you?” Erlich asked, with an exaggerated, faux-casual tone.

Richard’s stomach sank. This was _not the time._ It would _never be the time_. He glanced at Erlich, shaking his head a no, a desperate plea, hoping Erlich would spare him. If Elrich really, truly cared about him, in any capacity, Erlich wouldn’t do this.

Monica didn’t need to know about them. No one needed to know about them. And if she ever found out, it didn’t need to be through Erlich publicly disclosing their relationship at the _Menlo Park Safeway._ It would be all over the Valley by the time they left, Richard knew it. It would ruin him. Ruin Pied Piper.

“Uh, tell me what?” Monica spun back around and Richard hated _everything_. Couldn’t Erlic just stop being awful for five fucking minutes? Was that so much to fucking ask?

“We’re almost ready to roll out the Beta.” Erlich clapped a hand on Richard’s shoulder, and Richard exhaled.

 _Thank fuck_.

Richard didn’t think he’d ever felt so relieved in his entire life. Feeling trickled back into his limbs. He glanced up at Erlich -- he looked almost handsome under the harsh-fluorescence of the artificial lights, untamed hair, scruffy face, beaming smile. Richard felt warmth flooding through him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, wasn’t the kind of partner to be so ashamed over.

“Yeah, yeah!” Monica’s smile was approaching sincere again. “So I heard, exciting stuff. Can’t wait, but like I said, I’ve got _a_ _lot_ of errands to run today.”

“Did he also tell you about me and Richard?” In one fluid motion, Erlich’s hand moved from around Richard’s shoulder, down to his waist, tugging him closer.

Over half of Richard’s brain ceased to function and everything went dim and fuzzy. He saw fucking stars -- bright flecks clouding his vision. He was _dizzy_ . _No. No, no, no._ That _did not_ just happen.

To think, Richard had _trusted him_ had just called him _handsome_ (to himself, but it still counted), had just felt like he might be comfortable enough admitting that Erlich was his _boyfriend._ Now more than ever he _desperately_ wished he could seep into the cracks of the floor and vanish forever. Richard’s life was now effectively over.

“Huh?” Monica looked lost for a second, then, because Richard’s life continued to be some horrible, cruel joke, realization dawned on her. “Oh! _Oh._ Really?”

Erlich Smirked.

Richard wanted to puke.

Monica looked incredulous, maybe even disgusted.

“Well, that’s great, you guys. I’m uh, I’m happy for you? But I _really have to go_.”

“Take care,” Erlich said, flashing another smile.

“Yeah, you too!”

Richard watched as Monica sped down toward _poultry_ and willed his legs to move, to run and catch up with her, explain it was all some kind of joke, that he didn’t know what Erlich was talking about, that she didn’t understand what he had meant … it was no good. There was no believable excuse and he couldn’t bring himself to move -- figuratively and literally, Erlich still had a firm grip around his waist. Besides, he knew he had already given up hope that she could believe otherwise.

Monica actually didn’t seem all that phased by the reveal, surprisingly. Hell, she had picked up on Erlich’s implication almost immediately. What did that mean? Was it _that expected?_ And did she really not care?

“Erlich, I hate you, and I’m  going to throw up.”

“No you don’t, and you’ll be fine. Now you don’t have to keep worrying about her finding out. I did you a favor. You looked like you were going to pass out.”

“Oh. A favor!” Richard’s voice was raised in volume _and_ pitch, as if suddenly forgetting where they were. He pried himself out of Erlich’s grip, spreading his arms dramatically. “ _You call that a favor?”_

“Yes, I do! Because by the time you actually got around to telling her, _if you even did,_ you’d have done it in a way that would be embarrassing and explosive and would have made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. I don’t need that, and neither do you, and neither does she!”

Richard was at a loss. Completely shocked. He stood there, mouth hanging open, trying to find the words he needed.

“How was _that_ not embarrassing! You made _both of us feel incredibly uncomfortable!_ Now everyone is going to find out!”

“No they’re not, not unless you keep screaming about it in the middle of the fucking store! And anyway, _who cares!_ ” Erlich hissed, trying to quiet Richard. He wriggled away from Erlich’s grabbing hands.

“You could have at least been more tactful about it!” Richard hissed back.

“What was wrong with that? A casual conversation among friends in a casual place?” Erlich glanced around and dropped his voice to a whisper.

“How is that not _tactful_ . What do you want to do, schedule a board meeting at Raviga and disclose the details of our sex-life _formally?_ Put the fucking future of our relationship to a vote? All in favor of Erlich Bachman and Richard Hendricks _fucking_ raise their hands!"

 _“Shh!”_ Richard spat out, wobbling in his distress and losing his footing, almost falling into the shelf of jams and jellies behind him. Erlich caught him by the shirt sleeve before he could crash into it.

“Richard, calm down! You are seriously making a fool of yourself. And of me.”

“I’m not the one yelling about our sex-life in the middle of a fucking _grocery store!_ ”

Erlich sunk into himself, rolling his eyes and sighing with deep, deep disappointment.

Richard realized that yes, he was, in fact, yelling about their sex-life in the _middle of a fucking grocery store._

At least Erlich had the sense to whisper about it. Richard groaned, hating himself and hating Erlich and hating _everything._ Why was he so _stupid?_ Why was everything so fucking hard. The tears started to well up in his eyes, stinging, and he tried to will them away.

This was not how today was supposed to go. He had just wanted a break from every stupid little thing, and of course Erlich had talked him into _not working_ for once and look where it led them. It was his first honest day off in _months_  and he was so _exhausted._

Richard considered just laying down on the cold ground, letting himself waste away in the Safeway, like some kind of pathetic monument to shame.

Erlich came around from behind him and slung an arm over his shoulders. Richard gave up and let him. It was better than the filthy floor, at least. If nothing else, as mad as he might have been, Erlich’s touch was still soothing. His pulse betrayed him and quieted a little.

“Richie, look at me.” Erlich gently tilted Richard’s chin up, gazing down at him intently before leaning his forehead against his. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

The strangest thing about it was that Richard believed him.

“If this is going to be a thing,” Erlich continued, “then everyone’s going to find out eventually. Why hide it?”

A million tired fears tried to resurface and fluttered weakly around in Richard’s skull.

“Shh, stop.” Erlich crushed Richard against himself before letting him go and giving him some space. Richard missed the contact. “We’re going to be fine as long as neither of us acts like there’s something to hide. Which there isn’t.”

Erlich did have a point.

Richard’s concerns about losing funding or getting dragged by various tech blogs in an attempt at public humiliation were probably just catastrophic delusions. He suddenly felt guilty, knowing deep down the biggest reason he wanted to keep everything so quiet was because of how _ashamed_  he felt over being involved with Erlich Bachman, of all people. Like he had any kind of reputation to ruin, or that could be ruined whether they were _romantic partners_  or just business partners.

It was stupid.

“You’re right, I think,” Richard conceded.

“Of course I’m right,” Erlich said, matter-of-fact. “Now why don’t we finish shopping, and get the hell out of here?”

Richard nodded, fussing with a jar of store-brand almond butter, checking the seal. He would be glad to pretend things were back to normal. The sooner they could just go home, the better.

Erlich’s big, warm hand found his neck and rubbed at it gently, fingers traveling up to ruffle Richard’s messy curls. Richard couldn’t help but smile. If after everything, every stupid, horrible thing, Erlich could still make him feel okay, make him smile, making him stop caring about _public displays of affection_ … then maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

Besides, Erlich _was_ arguably attractive, when he cleaned up. That had to count for something. _And even now,_ he had to admit to himself, the scruffy, unshaven look and tired sunken eyes made something flutter inside of Richard’s chest -- the stupid clothes he was wearing aside. Richard supposed he could deal with it. Besides, it was stupid to feel ashamed over who you loved anyway, even if they happened to be kind of a mess.

Erlich flashed him a tired, crooked smile as he pulled away from  him, an oversized tub of marshmallow fluff in hand, and Richard realized in that moment, that he was actually, honest-to-God, _in love_ with Erlich Bachman.

It was terrifying.

Richard supposed, compared to every other terrifying thing in his life, this one he could live with. Especially considering _this_ terrifying thing seemed to make all the others more bearable.

“So what are we gonna do with all this food?” Richard asked, smiling despite himself.

“I don’t know.” Erlich shrugged, shoving at the cart and rounding the corner back toward the freezers. “Maybe when we get the next round of funding we can hire a personal chef.”

“I don’t think Jared is going to let you weasel that into the budget.” Richard came back up beside him, falling into step.

“We’ll see about that,” Erlich countered, grinning down at him, and Richard’s insides turned to jelly.

“Hey, Erlich?” Richard asked, almost unsure of what he wanted to say, the words catching in his throat with a squeak.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” Erlich stopped, concern flashing across his face. He let a hand rest gently on Richard’s back.

“Nothing, just, you know, thanks,” Richard mumbled softly, fidgeting.

“For what?”

“You know,” Richard shrugged, bumping his shoulder against Erlich, “for everything, I guess.”

Erlich grinned wide and tugged Richard close, planting a rough kiss on top of his head.

“Ugh, nevermind,” Richard feigned disgust, half-heartedly trying to squirm out of Erlich’s grip. He couldn’t help but smile and it ruined the effect. “I take it back, you’re the worst.”

“Nah.” Erlich just squeezed him tighter. “I’m great, you love me.”

“I don’t know,” Richard let out a soft sigh and nodded, “maybe, yeah.”


End file.
